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people in charge.
The Ethics Officer kept rejecting my formula. This went on for five
days, which I spent down in the engine room. I wasn't allowed to
communicate with anyone except for the Ethics Officer. Even if someone
spoke to me, I wasn't allowed to respond.
One day, another Sea Org member broke the rules and spoke to me. I
dutifully told him that he was not allowed to speak to me, nor I to him,
but he told me not to worry about it. I'll never forget what he did for
me that day, just by breaking the rules and talking to me. I don't
exactly recall what he said, but he encouraged me to hang in there and
helped me feel I could make it through this horrendous experience. He
showed me compassion when I needed it the most.
I determined that I would hang onto what little sanity I had left.
The way I
did this was to shut off all my emotions. It was a matter of survival.
The next day, I finally wrote up my formula to the Ethics Officer's
satisfaction and got out of the RPF's RPF. I had been broken after a
long, hard struggle.
I was no longer angry; I was no longer sad; I was no longer happy; I
felt nothing. I simply did as I was told.
At long last, I had learned the lesson of the RPF. (9)
It is fact that whenever someone becomes psychotic in Scientology,
and this does happen with a not surprising regularity, the person is
assigned to the RPF for "rehabilitation." The inhumane treatment of the
mentally ill in Scientology is a matter that has never been addressed by
any agency outside Scientology. This inhumanity is graphically described
by a "survivor of Scientology" who writes about her last days in the
organization:
My last week in the Sea Org was like a dream. One night I was told
to go to the basement and stuff letters. I did this in a little room
with no ventilation and moisture dripping down the walls.
There was never anyone around. I was left alone most of the time at
night now. That was their mistake. It gave me time to think.
This night I started stuffing my 2,000 letters. The old innocent
days of the Sea Org seemed very far away. The idealistic little girl who
had come here in '74 with dreams of new-found powers and increased
understanding had died...
Far above me the org hummed with activity. Every day someone else
like me, gullible and hungry for answers, was being drawn into
Scientology. Every day someone joined the Sea Org looking for security
within the group, not knowing the total control of their personality
they were handing over. Every day someone was sent to the RPF. These
were my thoughts as I stood there.
Suddenly I flung the letters down. I needed to walk. Underneath the
nine buildings were long tunnels that connected each building. Great
steam pipes ran along the sides of the tunnels. It was like being in the
engine room of a ship. The public didn't even know these tunnels
existed.
I walked for miles, thinking.
I knew now that I was going to die. My body was completely
emaciated, my mind had developed frightening blank periods when I could
remember nothing at all. I had very few emotions I could feel any more.
Things were breaking down.
I walked through tunnels I had never been in. Then I heard it.
Inhuman screaming and ranting. It was coming from my right.
There were four doors and someone was pounding on one of them. I ran
over and tried to open the door. It was locked. I yelled, "Are you all
right?" I got more screams. Suddenly someone touched my shoulder.
I turned and looked at a man in clean overalls. "Hello," he said.
"I'm the Ethics Officer for the RPF."
"What are you doing to her," I said.
"Oh, she's just blowing off some charge. When someone flips out on
the RPF, we lock them up for a couple of hours. They calm down after
awhile." He smiled.
I was stunned. "You lock them up in here?"
"Sure, you know the tech. The tech always works."
I looked at him. Totally triumphant, with Scientology tech on his
side. I felt sick to my stomach; the corridor started spinning around
me. So this was it. The final answer. Cold, calculated, step-by-step --
a progression to stamp out anyone who questioned, rebelled, criticized,
disliked Scientology. Break them, all of us. You don't agree, you make a
mistake, you are a staff member and you flip out. No mercy -- just
Scientology tech. Pure Ron Hubbard, turned insane.
He was still looking at me.
"Sure," I said, "maybe she'll drop her body and pick up a new one.
She'll get regged again and come back for another try. Death doesn't
exist, does it? Suffering doesn't exist either. Only the tech sent from
another galaxy."
"Wow," he said. "What OT level are you?"
"None you'd want to know about," I said. I turned and left him
standing by the locked door. (10)
The purpose of the Sea Organization, according to the Dianetics and
Scientology Technical Dictionary, is to "get ethics in on the
planet and eventually the universe."
The possibility is truly frightening.
Notes
- Corydon, p. 365-367
- Atack, p. 187
- Corydon, p. 25
- Atack, p. 180